A trendy new bar is preparing to open in a city centre building which used to house the swingers' club G Spot. We take a look back to 2003, and Lee Marlow's visit to the "parallel universe where anything goes".

In a dark room, in the corner of a bar, a porn movie plays to a largely unappreciative audience. Two men are playing pool and a cluster of people by the bar are laughing and joking in a tactile way which, if this was your local pub, wouldn’t make you think twice.

This, however, is not your local pub – this is another world, a parallel Leicester universe a few hundred yards from the Clock Tower where anything goes.

Welcome to the G Spot club, the swingers’ venue in Rutland Street, Leicester, where consenting adults meet three times a week (Thursday, Friday or Saturday) for a little of what they fancy.

It’s early, but inside people are smiling and cajoling, touching and hugging.

They seem friendly. I’m not quite sure where to look. That is until a large lady in her 40s shimmies by wearing nothing but stockings, a bra and a smile, which, oh dear, she’s shooting in my direction.

And was that a wink? I realise I’m blushing like a schoolboy.

This is the club where everyone likes to say yes, but where the all-important rule, says co-owner Brian, is No Means No.

“It’s all about respect,” he says. “And if someone says no, then it stops there.”

Brian and Mitch at the G-Spot on Rutland Street (Image: LMD)

In reality, he admits, not many people say no.

So what’s it like behind those dark doors? And just who would go to a club like this?

The club first. Inside, it’s deliberately dark and mysterious. The walls are black, the ceilings are black, the lights are low and there’s the occasional smattering of red paint.

Swingers sit on wooden benches, the ones usually found in pub gardens, and cigarette smoke hangs thick in the air, all but masking the faint whiff of cologne and the odd mid-life crisis.

Large speakers spill out a looped R’n’B soundtrack.

The three owners – Brian, Mike and Mitch – spent 18 hours a day for three months renovating the club at a cost of £30,000.

'It's sleazy, that's why I like it'

“It’s like a village pub atmosphere in here,” they all say. But it doesn’t look like one. The end result is unavoidably sleazy.

“I reckon it’s sleazy,” she says, “that’s why I like it. I don’t really care what other people think – if they haven’t been here, how can they judge?”

Lisa lives 50 miles away from Leicester. She used to come to the club with her husband, who, sadly, died six months ago.

But life goes on. So now she goes to the club by herself.

The building that housed G Spot (Image: LMD)

“Or I come with anyone who can give me a lift,” she laughs.

“Yes, my kids know I come here. Why should I keep it a secret? It’s a big part of my life.”

With that, she skips off, up the stairs and into the main arena, on the look out for a man she barely knows to have sex with in front of strangers.

It’s 10.30pm and like the BBC’s Brian Hanrahan in the Falklands War, I’m counting them in and counting them out. One couple leaves after 20 minutes, “Not up to much tonight,” the bloke sniffs. But as they walk out, more people walk in.

A man in his 30s, (wedding ring on the third finger of his left hand and pictures of his kids in his wallet) looks apprehensive as he pays his entrance fee.

Some people, says Mike, are so nervous when they first arrive, they can barely sign the club register.

By 11pm, there are 17 couples, four women and 15 men in the club. All human life is here. Old people, short people, black people, gay people, men with moustaches and, occasionally, glamorous young women in outrageous clothes.

In the club, the door to one of the five playrooms or “bonkobooths’’ has been left deliberately ajar.

Lying naked on a bed is a middle-aged woman lost in the throes of solitary passion. Her partner is sitting on a couch, one eye on her, one eye on the gaggle of slack-jawed men watching her at the door.

G-Spot club Leicester (Image: Leicester Mercury)

Twenty yards away, to the rear of the club, is St George’s church. Morally, how do you feel about that, Mr Club Owner?

“Well, let’s be honest about this,” says Mike, “these things happen. They’re happening in quiet country lanes all over the country on a Friday night.

“In here, it’s safe – it’s in a controlled environment between consenting adults. Is that worse than someone having an affair?”

In nearly two years there’s been one fight at the club – and that was between two women. In that time, they say, they’ve collected enough anecdotes to write a book, like the man who proposed to his girlfriend while she was blindfolded and tethered.

And what did she say? “Oh, she said yes,” smiles doorman John.

Not everyone is as chatty as John, an ex-punter who liked the club so much he got a job here.

'We walked in and walked straight out again'

And that, says Mike, is understandable. “It’s a different world in here,” he says. “As soon as people walk through these doors, it’s confidential.”

Carl, 33, and Emma, 21, are regulars. Tonight, Emma is wearing a black satin dress which won’t behave when she crosses her legs.

Carl is suspicious but agrees to speak as long as he’s not misquoted or the club is painted in a bad light.

“The first time we came here, we walked in and walked straight out again. We had to go and have a drink,” says Emma.

Carl says: “When you get to know some of the people, and the people here are genuine, then you’ll have a good time.”

Carl and Emma rarely indulge in any shenanigans inside the club. Instead, they’re on the lookout for couples like them.

“We tried advertising,” says Emma, “but we found that people weren’t who they claimed they were.